


Firefight and Flowers

by bethagain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, Everyone's happy by the end I promise, F/M, Luke is both the worst and best boyfriend ever, Misunderstandings, Romantic Gestures, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethagain/pseuds/bethagain
Summary: It's the second day of the fourteenth month. The entire galaxy is celebrating love and romance.All except you, that is. Luke never made any plans with you for today, and now he's disappeared somewhere.You don't know it yet, but you're going to feel much better when you find out where he was.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr, sparked by [this post](http://tato0ine-luke.tumblr.com/post/157105234176/i-cant-wait-for-luke-skywalker-to-descend-from) from tato0ine-luke. Thank you for the inspiration!
> 
> p.s. Changed the title a few weeks after posting. Story's the same though.

It's the fourteenth day of the second month.

You meet up with your friend Cass Karwey on the way to the hangar deck. You're both in work clothes, khaki jumpsuits and boots with reinforced toes. 

On the way you pass some people dressed up fancy, couples hand in hand on the way to share a meal or gaze out the lounge windows together. The whole galaxy's celebrating love and togetherness today.

You're on your way to do X-wing maintenance, and so is Cass. She's not seeing anyone right now. You are, except you haven't _seen_ him all day. Luke didn't even mention the holiday to you. No invitation to dinner, no flowers delivered to your quarters, not a word from him since you woke up this morning.

His X-wing’s in its place in the hangar. So, no last minute mission from Mon Mothma or anything like that.

Cass climbs up to the cockpit of her own ship and her delighted shout comes down to you. You were about to open the hatch to an engine compartment, but you duck back out from under your ship to see.

“Secret admirer!” She's holding up a huge bouquet of flowers. “They left chocolates, too, you want some?”

“Oh hells yeah.” You're up the ladder and picking out a syrup-filled candy in less than a minute. “I hate this holiday.”

She looks at you with sympathy. “Maybe there's something for you, too?”

Your heart lifts. He knows you love to fly, maybe he thought it would be romantic…

But when you go to look the cockpit’s empty, except for the dried mud on the floor from your last mission. You'd forgotten about that. Another chore for today.

“Sorry,” Cass says.

“It's OK,” you say. “I'm sure he's off doing something important.” _Because there's always something more important than me._

 

You make it through the day smiling at cute couples and poly groups all laughing and holding hands and showing off the gifts they got from each other. The mess hall is so full of romantic cheer that you have to box up your dinner and get out of there before you lose your appetite entirely.

Back in your quarters, you eat your dinner. You rinse off the utensils and the carry-box and set them out to dry. You flip through some stories on your datapad but there's nothing you want to read, and the holovid shows are just painful. Romance, romantic comedy, historical romance… You turn the unit off.

May as well go to bed, you think, even though it's so early the thought is a little embarrassing. You strip out of your work clothes and get into a t-shirt and soft leggings. They're so old they're stretched out of shape and full of holes, but they're the most comfortable things you own. 

No point in putting on the pretty top and panties that you bought last week because you thought he'd like them. Guess they'll be collecting dust, anyway. Looks like you got this whole thing wrong.

Maybe he's off celebrating the day with someone else. Maybe this is his way of telling you it's over. Or maybe he just doesn't care.

 

You're awakened by someone pounding on your door. Who's getting you up the middle of the night? Is it an emergency? 

You check the chrono by your bed. It's only 9pm.

After a minute of blinking your eyes and trying to get all the way conscious, you roll out from under the covers and pad to the door. It slides open with a touch of the keypad on the wall.

Luke's standing there.

At first you're mortified. You're in your crappiest sleep clothes and your hair is probably standing up every which way. You probably have creases on your face from the pillow.

And then you think, so what. If he wanted you looking perfect he should have asked you on a godsdamned date. Not wandered over to your quarters when the day's already over for, what? Why is he even here?

That's when you notice he doesn't look so good, either. His shirt has a rip down the front. The bag over his shoulder is crumpled and torn.His pants are covered in dirt and--is that blood? He has a black eye. 

You move aside and let him in.

You let him sit in your one cushioned chair. He sets the bag at his feet. You bring him a cup of water. Then you stand there, looking down at him. “Well?”

“I meant to be here earlier,” he says. “I got a little sidetracked.”

He is here now, and it's clear there's more to the story than just forgetting about the holiday today.

You sit down on the edge of the bed and agree to listen.

“I went to Detlanis,” he says.

You squint at him. “Your ship’s been in its berth all day.”

“Not a mission,” he says. “Well, not that kind of mission. I borrowed a shuttle.”

OK, you think. Go on.

“There's this shop,” he says. “Remember that time Follie brought back a box of chocolate gems from his week on leave?”

That was a year ago. You got teased for a week about the expression on your face when you tasted one. Apparently your enjoyment looked a little… obscene. You thought everyone had forgotten about it by now.

“I found out where they make those.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a little box tied with a ribbon. The ribbon is starting to fray. The box is dented and one corner is missing, the paper around it burned black. “It's an Imperial occupied planet. I had a little entanglement on the way back to the ship.”

He holds the box out to you, looking hopeful that you'll take it. “I think they're still good. That one section might be a little melted.”

You take the box. 

Luke seems disappointed when you don't open it right away, but he continues on. “I guess I was already running late, but I really wanted to get to Requist III before I came back.”

Requist III… You have a vague memory of having been there once on a mission. 

“Remember the flame-flowers?” he says, and suddenly you do. You'd been flying over the planet’s surface, on the way back from dropping off a crew to assist an agricultural colony. The colony had been hard-hit by an Imperial raid. 

You and Luke were at the controls as the now-empty transport ship skimmed over fields of green food crops. You were staring down at the wide swaths of black where laser fire had cut through. 

And then the crops ended and the ground dropped off into canyons and buttes and pillars, irrigated lands giving way to rough desert. The low ground was brown and tan, but the tops of the buttes were bright with yellow, blue, and gold.

You'd made Luke take the ship perilously low so you could get a better look. It was all huge cactus flowers. 

Abundant, beautiful life shining defiance toward the sky.

Luke reaches into the bag again and pulls out a cluster of something yellow, blue, and gold. “I slipped climbing back down,” he says. “They got a little messed up.”

He gets up, goes over to you, and places them in your hands.

The petals, attached to crushed cactus stems, are mangled and torn. 

It's the best bouquet anyone ever brought you.

And suddenly you realize, you didn't get a proper gift for him. 

Well, you have some ideas to make up for it. “Wait here,” you tell him. You duck into the refresher room to wash up, comb your hair, and change into the pretty underthings you wanted to show him. 

When you come back out a few minutes later, he's watching you, eyes wide.

You settle into his lap in the cushioned chair and his arms go around you. “Thank you for my presents,” you say.

“Do you like them?”

Words wouldn't be enough to say how much you love them, so you tell him with a kiss… 

And then you keep on telling him, in the chair and in bed, all the way until morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [roane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/roane/pseuds/roane) for putting my notion of Luke Skywalker as boyfriend material into words. Best/worst boyfriend ever is exactly it!


End file.
